By Emmanuel Uzo Obi
Nigeria has finally arrived at a constitutional crossroads on policing. The President has urged the 10th National Assembly to amend the 1999 Constitution to allow state police; the Senate leadership has promised to conclude the process; and the new Inspector-General of Police has inaugurated a committee to design a workable framework. What was once dismissed as heresy is now sitting on the legislative agenda.
Yet the central question remains unresolved: what exactly are we building?
Too much of the current debate swings between romanticism and fear. Proponents insist state police will magically solve insecurity; opponents warn that governors will convert them into private armies. Both sides are partly right—and both are incomplete.
Decentralized policing can only work if it is embedded in a clear national architecture: one that defines who does what, how they are trained, how they are supervised, and how citizens can hold them to account.
In my view, three big design choices will determine whether state police become a tool for safety or a weapon of impunity: (1) the relationship between Federal Police and State Police, (2) the integration of fire services, emergency medical services (EMS), and major institutions into a single public-safety system, and (3) whether policing becomes a true profession with time-limited certification, or remains a one-off job appointment.
Beyond slogans: a tiered policing system
Despite its many dedicated officers, the current Nigeria Police Force is being asked to do too much with too little. It is expected to handle national security, terrorism, complex organized crime, traffic in remote local government areas, and disputes in university hostels. That model has clearly reached its limits.
The alternative is not to simply “add” state police on top of an unchanged federal behemoth. Nigeria needs a tiered system: a re-scoped Federal Police focused on federal and complex crime, and constitutionally established State Police responsible for internal security and community safety, with both sharing information and standards.
Functionally, the Federal Police should resemble an FBI-style agency—without unthinkingly copying it. Its main responsibilities should include counterterrorism, treason, piracy, complex financial and cybercrime, interstate trafficking, and offenses against federal institutions and elections. It should have advanced capabilities such as forensic labs, cyber units, data analytics, and joint task forces. However, it should not attempt to micromanage every patrol in each local government across 36 states.
State Police, by contrast, should serve as the primary day-to-day guardians: managing routine crime, traffic, and community safety, and enforcing state laws. They are the ones who can understand local languages, recognize local tensions, and build trust within neighborhoods. That is where quicker response times and improved intelligence will come from—if we get the structure right.
But state police must not become the private militia of any governor, just as federal police must not serve the political whims of any administration. The solution lies in constitutional design: independent State Police Service Commissions with staggered terms; clear federal standards on recruitment, training, and human rights; and federal oversight focused on standards and rights compliance, not day-to-day politics.
Public safety is more than police: 112, fire, EMS, and big institutions
Nigerians face insecurity not only during crimes but also when fire trucks never arrive, ambulances can’t find hospital beds, or when a mass-casualty crash on the highway turns into a mass funeral. No serious security reform ignores fire services and emergency medical care.
We already have building blocks. The 112-emergency number is active, and the Nigerian Communications Commission has established Emergency Communication Centres in several states. However, for most citizens, emergency response still means: “Call your relative who knows someone.” That needs to change.
A state police reform that overlooks 112 and ECCs will fail. We should seize this moment to create a truly integrated public-safety system.
• 112 as a single national number for police, fire, and EMS.
• Multi-agency Emergency Communication Centers in every state, equipped with computer-aided dispatch that displays and deploys police patrols, fire engines, and ambulances on the same screen.
• Standard operating procedures for road crashes, building fires, market fires, floods, and mass-casualty incidents.
Critically, universities, colleges, and large hospitals must be regarded as key critical sites within this system. Their security personnel and clinics serve as the first line of response, but they are not law enforcement; serious incidents must be managed by State or Federal Police. Teaching hospitals and tertiary hospitals should be integrated as referral centers in EMS plans and used for joint drills on mass-casualty and terrorism scenarios.
In other words, success isn’t just about how many officers we recruit, but also whether a citizen in trouble can dial 112 from anywhere and receive a quick, coordinated police–fire–EMS response.
Private security: from parallel universe to regulated partner
The reality is that middle-class and corporate Nigeria already “vote with their wallets” by paying heavily for private security guards, estate patrols, and CCTV networks. Yet this large sector often operates in a legal and operational grey zone: poorly trained, loosely supervised, and disconnected from formal law-enforcement.
If we are restructuring public safety, we must decide what we want from private security:
• Private guards and Public Safety Support Providers (PSSPs) should be explicitly recognized in law as supportive entities without independent powers for criminal investigation or extended detention.
• The NSCDC must be empowered and resourced to raise standards, enforce licensing, and integrate private providers into state and federal plans.
• All major estates, malls, campuses, and industrial parks should have formal memoranda of understanding with State Police, specifying how CCTV feeds, alarms, and incident reports are shared.
Done right, private security becomes an extra layer of eyes and early warning—not a competing armed force.
Training and certification: turning policing into a real profession
Even the best constitutional design will fail if officers are trained in collapsing barracks with outdated curricula and no clear professional path. Recent reporting and federal statements have acknowledged that many Police Colleges are in deplorable condition and that training must be overhauled and digitalised.
Here, there is some good news. In 2025, the Nigeria Police Training Institutions Bill was signed into law, creating 48 specialised training institutions meant to meet international standards. This is a quiet but powerful reform. If we align it with state policing, we can
finally move away from a purely paramilitary, barracks model toward a modern, mixed system:
• Regional academies that train Federal and State recruits together on core policing skills, then separate tracks for specialisation.
• Partnerships with universities and polytechnics to deliver accredited legal, ethical, and digital modules—similar to Basic Law Enforcement Training (BLET) programmes in US community colleges.
• Tactical modules (firearms, public-order, defensive tactics) delivered in secure police facilities, but not dictating the entire training experience.
Most crucially, we must stop treating police training as a one-time event. In many countries, officers hold time-limited professional certificates and must renew them every few years by completing in-service training and maintaining good conduct. Nigeria should adopt a similar model:
• A three-year professional certificate for all Federal and State officers.
• Renewal only if officers complete mandatory training hours, remain fit, and have no serious, sustained misconduct.
• State-level Policing Standards and Certification Boards, operating under national norms, feed a central database so that decertified officers cannot quietly move from one state or agency to another.
That one mechanism—decertification with national effect—might do more to curb abuse than any number of slogans.
The real risk is doing decentralization badly.
Critics of the state police are not imagining the risks. Nigeria’s history of politicized security is real, and the danger of state-level abuse cannot be dismissed. But the solution to these risks is not indefinite delay. Instead, the system must be properly designed, transparent, and anchored in constitutional, statutory, and institutional safeguards.
If we simply create 36 copies of the current federal system, we will fail—perhaps catastrophically. But if we:
• Clearly separate federal and state roles,
• Integrate fire, EMS, universities, and hospitals into a 112-driven public-safety network,
• Regulate private security into a partnership,
• And professionalized officers through modern training and a three-year certification,
Then, the state police can be a cornerstone of a safer, more responsive, and more accountable Nigeria.
We are already on the “long trek to state police,” as one analyst recently said. The question now is not whether we will arrive, but what kind of house we will find at the end: a house of law, rights, and service—or a house of fear. The architecture we choose in the coming months will determine that.
•Emmanuel Uzo Obi is a professor of cybersecurity and a public safety and security expert and writes from North Carolina.
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